


you know all about me (that's what's so frightening)

by midnights



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Choking, Cunnilingus, Hate Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smoking, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, be safe choking your partners people, do virtual beings need condoms? probably not, egregious smoking actually, insults as flirting, the mythical multiple male orgasm, you know the deal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:54:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28395693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnights/pseuds/midnights
Summary: He's there when V wakes.Leaning on the wall by her bed. Casting a long, lean figure in the shadows. Smoking one of his smelly cigarettes, the gray smoke curling into the air above him. How a fucking hallucination of flickering blue cyberspace cansmell, V still doesn't know.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/Female V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Comments: 10
Kudos: 197





	you know all about me (that's what's so frightening)

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhh lemme just say that it is rude that you can't romance johnny in this game. also mr. keanu reeves i am so sorry for this.
> 
> my v is a streetkid, but that doesn't play into this very much. i tried to use some of the slang from the game, but forgive me if it sounds corny, also i'm going by the logic that v & johnny can touch since he pushed her back when she woke up from vik's and she fell, ergo, they can smash lmao.
> 
> title is from Anywhere by Interpol.
> 
> i'm also maybe considering adding a second chapter just w/ male V.
> 
> anyway, enjoy!

He's there when V wakes.

Leaning on the wall by her bed. Casting a long, lean figure in the shadows. Smoking one of his smelly cigarettes, the gray smoke curling into the air above him. How a fucking hallucination of flickering blue cyberspace can _smell_ , V still doesn't know.

It's late. The ads on the buildings outside wash V's apartment in blue and red light.

V is sore, definitely bruised- a result of the beating she took during one of Fred's fights yesterday. Or today? Shit, V's got no idea what time it is. She's still half-reeling from whatever she was dreaming about. 

The radio over in the living area is playing low music, on a station V doesn't remember turning on.

Did _he_ change it? Can he move around the apartment when V's asleep?

"No, doll. I'm only awake when you are," Johnny purrs.

Fuck. "I forget you're in my head like this, sometimes."

"Right," Johnny agrees, in a way that says he doesn't believe her at all. "Nice tits, by the way. You gonna put on a shirt? Or am I allowed to look?"

V looks down and realizes she is not, in fact, wearing a shirt. Just black underwear, not even socks. The clothes she'd had on when she got home from the fight are strewn about the floor- her boots are by the couch, her shirt is on the way into the bathroom. She lets out a long, overdramatic groan and gets up. Legs are sore too. Probably still from her job for Padre last night. Or two nights ago. Whatever.

Stretching her arms over her head, V heads for the bathroom and turns on the shower.

A fizzle of blue pixels and there he is again, in the mirror. Obscuring V's reflection. He's standing with his arms crossed, his one organic bicep taking up most of the space in V's brain. "Gonna go get some real smokes so I can actually enjoy 'em? These do nothin' for me," Johnny asks. He flicks the cigarette towards the floor, and it glitches out in mid-air.

"Fuck off. I need to wash." V's not in the mood for him.

"What you _need_ to do is feed the cat," Johnny says.

He stays in the mirror, and V flips him off before she steps out of her underwear and into the shower. She'll feed the cat later. Water's cold, but within a few seconds it's hot, steaming up the room. When V turns, she can just see the smoke curling up from Johnny's cigarette. He's watching her, still.

Quickly, almost violently, V washes herself off. Sani's her short hair, scrubs the dirt and grime off of her arms. Pokes gingerly at the bruise on her cheekbone. There's one on her hip, too. Blooming black and blue and wrapping around her side. Hurts like a bitch. Somewhere nearby, Johnny's humming along to the radio.

It pisses V off, that he's in her head, _is_ her, yet her poor, split brain still entertains daydreams of him railing her over the sofa, or pushing her up against the window and ruining her. Like she's one of his fucking groupies from his memories. How's it even possible? He's not real. Not there, just virtual.

It's what she'd been dreaming of, before she woke up. It's what's got her in a bad mood.

She should be worrying about other things- Takemura, money, the ticking fucking timebomb in her head. But no. She's waking up from wet dreams like she's fucking 19 again, stupidly lusting over the kid in the apartment next to hers.

" _Ohhhhh_. Is _that_ what's got you all tied up in knots?" Johnny asks.

Shit. Again. "Fuck you. Get out of my head."

"Can't do that, sweetheart," he says. V can't tell where he is anymore. Sounds like he's out of the mirror. "That what you want? For me to bend you over the couch? Fuck you in front of the window for all of NC to see?"

V almost chokes. She can feel her cheeks heat up, and she scrubs a hand through her short hair. Water drips into her eyes from the shower.

"What, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?" And he doesn't call her 'sweetheart' in any endeared sort of way. It's more of an insult.

"Quit fuckin' callin' me that," V snaps.

Johnny chuckles. "Bet you do taste sweet. Why not lemme try? Be doin' you a favor. Used to call me Silver _tongue_ , back in the day."

Christ. V is- it's been a while since she's gotten any action. Since before Johnny. The joytoys along Jig Jig Street have caught her eye a couple times, but she's never gone in, as much as she's wanted to. She misses it. Misses _sex_. Wants to feel someone else's hands on her. Wants to be sweaty and sore and tired from something _other_ than brutal merc work.

She hasn't even given _herself_ any action. It feels like- like a privacy breach. With Johnny there, in her head. If she were to get off, wouldn't he _feel it_?

"Don't you wanna find out?" And there he is, right outside the shower. Leaning against the wall, the picture of cool, like he's posing for some sort of photo.

V scowls at him, all teeth, and turns off the shower. When she's dried off, she stalks over to the closet, pulls on a camisole and some underwear and shorts. Then she flops onto the couch, turns on the tv, and pours herself a stiff one. Her fucking hip hurts.

And she's embarrassed.

She resolutely does not look at Johnny, who has draped himself along the other side of the sofa. He never sits normally. Always languidly spreading himself out over the nearest surface, sitting with his legs spread like he's about to either go to sleep or get sucked off.

And there it is again, an image of him in her head, her kneeling between his legs.

V mutters a curse and turns the volume of the TV up, tries to focus on the news that's playing. Takes a few swigs of tequila. The news anchor's voice reverberates through the apartment, but the voice in her head is much louder.

"Is this you trying to play hard to get?" Johnny murmurs. "I know you've got the hots for me V, stop trying to lie. We both know it doesn't work like that."

And suddenly he's _right there_ , leaning over her, metal arm on the sofa behind her. His face is inches away. V can smell him. Old-fashioned gunpowder and smoke. Dark eyes boring into her like they're scanning her with bio-tech. Assessing her for threats.

"Back off, shithead." V raises a hand to push him, and he catches it in his organic hand. It wraps around her whole wrist.

"I know what you want, V. I can see it." And damn if V isn't getting hot already. "Starting to piss me off a little, honestly. You getting all hot 'n bothered means _I'm_ all hot 'n bothered."

She looks up at him. It's confusing, since he pisses her off to no end, and is literally killing her very slowly. It's not even that she _likes_ him very much. But-

"But I get you going, sweetheart." Johnny pulls her up so she's standing, just inches from him. He leads her over to the window and crowds her up against the glass, one hand on either side of her head.

Somehow she can feel the heat of his nonexistent body, just an inch separating them. Distantly, V thinks she might be sweating. It's been months since she was in a situation like this. Above her, Johnny is looking at her with those dark eyes, no aviators hiding them. V looks back at him through her lashes. She can feel her cheeks heating up.

The tequila is hitting her. Or maybe it's just Johnny, making her feel drunk.

His 'ganic hand comes to rest on her waist. It's large and warm. The rings on it are cold against her skin. Makes V shudder a little. She feels the sensation on both her hip and her hand, as if she's touching herself. Johnny seems to feel it too, and smirks like he's entertained. He reaches back slightly, towards her ass, grabs a handful of the flesh there.

Then his hand comes back to her front, begins to trace downward. It stops just before it slides into her underwear. "Need a red or green here, doll."

"Thought you know what I want?" V shoots, and her voice is steadier than she expected it to be.

"All just talk until it isn't," Johnny says sagely. "Had to check."

Oddly, V appreciates it. She nods at him.

And then Johnny's hand slips into her shorts, beneath her underwear, and she loses almost all capacity to think of anything at all.

She's wet. Wetter than usual, even. Most of the time it takes her a little longer to get going. Sometimes she'll indulge in a BD, or entertain thoughts of getting one of the silly sex toys at the shops on Jig Jig street. But her underwear is damp already, and her shorts are a little damp, too. The hand and fingers dipping between her folds are hers and not hers, the fingertip ghosting over her clit belongs to her and does not.

An unsteady breath escapes from her lips. She can feel Johnny's amusement in the deep recesses of her mind, and somewhere in the forefront of hers, she realizes he must be as turned on as she is.

"Correct," Johnny purrs in her ear. His metal hand reaches up and comes to rest on the junction of her jaw and throat.

And then he slams their lips together. It's almost all teeth, at first. V's pissed, and that means Johnny is too, and the kiss is all animosity and anger. The metal hand around her throat whirrs as it tightens its hold slightly, and V feels the grip on her throat and her hand. V remembers her own hands, and raises them each to thread them in Johnny's hair. It's softer than she would've expected. She tugs on it slightly, and is rewarded with the sensation of her own hair being tugged, as well as the groan Johnny lets out against her lips.

The fingers in her cunt continue to explore, circling her clit. One dips into her hole, and then another, slowly pumping in and out. V lets out another shaky breath, adjusting to the feeling of the fingers inside her and the fact that she can feel how wet she is as if it were her own fingers working her over. Johnny's fingers feel thicker, longer than her own. He's already ghosting closer to that _spot_ \- there it is. 

"Fuck," V breathes. 

She cants her hips forward, more into Johnny's hand, and feels the hard outline of his cock through his pants. With their connection, since he feels what she does, when she comes, will he?

"Lets find out, huh?" Johnny asks. 

He steps back, takes his hand out from V's pants, and her suddenly-empty hole clenches around nothing. Johnny's hand is wet, V can see it in the red lights cast into her apartment from the ads outside. The hand on her throat traces down, grabs her wrist. Johnny walks towards the bed, leading V behind him. V follows, laughing breathlessly when he shoves her onto the mattress roughly.

"You sure know how to make a girl feel wanted, Silverhand," V shoots him a smirk. 

"You don't know the half of it, doll." The corners of Johnny's mouth curl. "Clothes off. Let's go." 

To her embarrassment, the demanding tone of his voice just gets V going even _more_. His gruff voice is always attractive, but now it's something more. V grabs for the hem of her shirt and yanks it off, eyes on Johnny as he takes off the tacvest he's always wearing. For a minute, she just watches him undress, mesmerized at all the skin she's seeing. The broad expanse of his chest, the wide spread of his shoulders. He has more tattoos than she realized. 

His boots come off in a fizzle of cyberspace, a glitch, and then he's unbuttoning his pants, casting them aside on the floor. The glitch tells her that he could have all of his clothes off, in an instant, but that he's taking them off methodically for show. For _her_. 

He looks back up at V, clad only in a pair of black boxers, and motions to her shorts. "Off." 

Since she's laying down, it takes her a minute of squirming to get the shorts off, but then there's a pair of hands tugging them down, pulling her underwear off her legs roughly. Distantly, she hears the clothes hit the floor. But all she can see or think about is Johnny, coming towards her on the bed.

His weight shouldn't shift the mattress, she shouldn't be able to feel his body heat, see the outline of his dick though his underwear. Shouldn't _see_ him at all. But there he is, draping himself over her, one leg between hers, metal hand propping him up beside her head. The dogtag around his neck comes to rest on V's chest, the metal cold on her overheated skin. Johnny's real hand reaches for one of her tits, gives it an appreciative squeeze. 

"Damn. Oughtta take a pictu-"

V grabs him by the neck and hauls him in for another kiss. It's an effective way to shut him up, thankfully. He kisses back hard, tongue sliding over hers, hot and fast. All of his weight covers V, more solid than she would've expected. Especially considering that he's a jumble of code in her brain. 

It's odd, kissing someone and feeling what they feel. Like V's kissing a clone of herself, or something. But Johnny's an aggressive kisser, biting at her lower lip, rolling his hips down into hers, pinching at her nipple until she gasps into his mouth.

She grabs for his waist, his ass, writhing a little when he pulls back and attaches his hips to her neck. Teeth that are hers and not hers sink into her skin, biting and sucking hard enough that V's sure there'll be a hell of a mark left. 

"Usually I like pulling hair. Guess you'll have to pull mine, sweetheart," Johnny says into her neck, one hand skating over her buzzed head.

V huffs a breathless laugh and reaches one hand up into his hair, tugging lightly from the roots at the base of his neck. She feels it in her own hair, and revels in the way Johnny's breath stutters. 

She takes Johnny's hand, the real one, from her head and guides it down, towards the pulsing heat of her cunt. Still wet as ever. Immediately, Johnny gets two fingers inside her, thumb rubbing over her cunt. It sends electric jolts through V's body, and she arches up into him, tugging more at his hair. 

"Sit up," Johnny says suddenly. 

He's getting up, onto his knees, pushing at V's legs. V does what she's told, moving back on the bed until her back is against the headboard. Johnny watches her. Languidly, she brings her knees up, spreads her legs. His eyes trace down her body, come to rest on her crotch. 

Then he's diving in, tongue on her clit and two fingers in her hole. No- three. 

V tastes herself on her own tongue, through Johnny's. Feels the pressure and fullness of his fingers working her over. 

Her first orgasm comes quickly. Johnny's tongue laving over her clit quickly, clever fingers knowingly seeking out that spot inside her that has her writhing on the bed, fingers tangled and tugging lightly on his hair. In the haze of it all, she hardly notices Johnny's breathing increasing in speed with hers, the way his hips are rolling. 

She comes in a rush of white noise, hole clenching around Johnny's fingers, fingers tightening in his hair. 

A moment later, when she returns to conscious thought, she sees Johnny looking up at her. He's heaving in great breaths, at a pace that matches her own. There's a wet spot on his boxers. A surprised grin oozes its way onto V's face. "No fuckin' way. _You_ came?" 

Johnny grins back at her and wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand. The rings on his fingers glint in the scant light of V's room. "'cause you did. Always wondered what getting eaten out feels like. I get it now."

"Shit," V pants. She leans her head back against the wall and closes her eyes.

"I'm not done with you yet, sweetheart," Johnny says in that low, gruff voice of his. 

V opens her eyes just as Johnny gets to his knees, grabs her by the hips, and hauls her down the bed towards him. The boxers are gone in a crackle of blue code, and V finally gets to see Johnny's cock, big and thick and hard as a rock. And then it hits her- _she's_ still in the mood, so Johnny is too. No one-and-done here. As long as she's still coming, then so-

"The long-awaited secret to the multiple male orgasm," he muses. "Nice view?" 

V tries to glare at him, but she's sure she just looks fucked-out and flushed from her orgasm. "Fuck you." 

"Yeah, I'm interested in seeing how fucking you feels too." Johnny quirks his eyebrows at her, smug as ever. 

V doesn't give him an answer, just watches and cooperates when Johnny slings one of her legs over his shoulder, lines himself up with her cunt. 

And then he's putting it in, not stopping until his hips meet her ass, flush. It takes V a minute to adjust to the fullness, the pressure, the sensation of both the cock in her and the feeling of being filled. 

Johnny whistles, low. "So that's what it feels like. Huh." 

His metal hand is on her calf, and the 'ganic one comes to rest on her stomach. He gives V only another second to adjust, and then he's pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in, jerking V up the bed a few inches. He pulls her back and fucks into her again, the sound of their skin slapping together almost as loud as the radio. 

V reaches up for something, any of him that she can reach. Johnny bats her hands away and slings her other leg over his other shoulder, folding her almost in half as he fucks into her harder and harder. Then he grabs her hands and pins them over her head with his metal hand, his other hand going to her hip and holding her in place so she doesn't keep moving up the bed.

Distantly, V hears herself letting out little breathless moans and curses. Johnny's panting above her, warm breath ghosting over her face. 

The metal hand's grip on her wrists is strong, unyielding, and V wonders how quickly Johnny could make her come if he put that hand to use on her cunt. 

"Quicker than you could call out my name, sweetheart," Johnny answers for her. The tone of his voice is playful but his face is twisted in concentration as he fucks her. 

He surges forward and kisses her, metal arm releasing its hold on V's wrists to grab her throat and give it an experimental squeeze. All of the breath leaves V's lungs, and she clenches down on Johnny's cock involuntarily. 

"Ohhh, someone likes being choked?" Johnny murmurs against her lips, his voice tinted with amusement. "Figured." 

"Fuck- you," V chokes out with what little breath she has left. 

The pace he's fucking her at speeds up, and his organic hand disappears between them and then V feels his thumb on her clit, rubbing at the same pace. It's a few seconds later but feels like much longer when the grip on her throat subsides, lets her suck in a few breaths. She's dizzy with the pleasure of it, feels high on the feeling of the cock pumping into her and the harsh sounds of skin on skin, the rushed panting of their labored breathing. 

They're still kissing, the stubble on Johnny's face scraping roughly against V's lips. V feels a second orgasm approaching, and so does Johnny, evidently, because he fucks her impossibly harder, bears down on her clit with more speed. 

"Gonna-" V chokes on the words. Doesn't matter anyway. Johnny knows what she's trying to say.

She comes a moment later, orgasm washing over her in another rush of white noise. Johnny's hips fuck into her and stay there, cock buried to the hilt in her hole. The grip on her throat disappears. 

"Fuckin' hell," V pants. Underneath her, she can feel the wetness on the sheets from where her slick and Johnny's come have dribbled out of her hole. 

Johnny's panting too, chest heaving as he lowers V's legs from his shoulders to the bed on either side of his hips. There's a loud, slick sound as he pulls his cock out. 

For a minute, V's sure he's done, about to disappear in a blue glitch, but he's only standing up, holding his metal hand out for her to take. 

"Remembered you thinking something about getting railed against the window?" Johnny raises his eyebrows at her. 

V nods, taking Johnny's hand and standing on shaky, unsteady legs. Feels like they're made of noodles as she follows him over to the window. Like before, when he first kissed her, Johnny crowds her up against the wall. 

This time, he turns her around, grabbing a handful of her ass with his metal hand. He pushes her up against the wall with a hand between her shoulder blades, and the cold press of the glass against V's front makes her shudder. She braces her hands on the windowsill, looks out at Night City spreading out across from and below her apartment. The neon lights of the signs and advertisements are bright and distracting, and though normally she might be caught up watching one for something or other, Johnny brings her back to the present with a sharp pinch to one of her nipples. 

"Busy?" His mouth is so close to V's ear that his breath gives her goosebumps. 

He shoves himself up against her, body flush with hers. V can feel his cock pressing into one of her ass cheeks, still miraculously hard. Another time, if this isn't the only time they do this, V will see how long she and him can go, how many orgasms they can wring out of each other. She supposes that he can go as long as she can, and she's gone pretty long before in the past. 

But now, she's caught up in the shock of knowing Johnny wants her too, the satisfaction of it. The knowledge that she gets him going just like he does to her. Still, she's not going to give _him_ the satisfaction of being cooperative and pleading, like his fuckin' groupies probably were back in the day. She still wants to give him hell, so she does. 

"Only thing I'm _busy with_ is waiting for you to-" 

She doesn't get to finish, because Johnny cuts her off with a hand around her throat again, other hand lifting her hips so he can push his cock into her again. He sets a brutal pace, and only releases V's throat so he can brace a hand on the wall and fuck her harder. The moan V lets out is far from dignified, so loud it's almost a shout. 

"I like it when you get loud," Johnny says into her ear, so low he's almost whispering. 

V doesn't want to let him win, but she's fucked-out and veering further from worrying about being spiteful, and can't help letting out the string of curses and moans that escape from her mouth. It's not her fault. Rockerboy Johnny Silverhand is _stupidly_ good at this. 

Behind her, there's a soft chuckle. "Years of practice." 

"Y-you're not even that _old_ ," V bites back, but her voice stutters when Johnny pounds into her particularly hard, and her insult loses its bravado. 

Another laugh. "Know how many people threw themselves at me back in the day?" The hand is back on her throat, tilting her head back towards him so she can just barely see him out of the corner of her eye, the smug look on his face. His lips just barely touch hers as he speaks. "Bet you would've, too. Big fan like you. Would you have flashed me those tits at a show? Tracked me down to my hotel room after?"

V wants to say something witty, something vaguely insulting to let him know that _no_ , she would not have done those things. But when she opens her mouth to speak, the metal hand on her throat tightens, cutting off her airway. Johnny presses a fast kiss to her lips, tugging the bottom one between his teeth as he moves back. 

A minute passes, or probably less, but it feels longer to V, as Johnny rails into her and keeps his metal hand gripping tightly to her throat. When he releases her throat, V takes in big, gasping breaths, relishing the lightheaded, dizzy feeling. Both of his hands move to V's hips, dragging her back towards him as he thrusts forward, grunting lowly with each thrust. He's practically holding her up by her hips, which is good, because V doesn't think her legs would hold her. She'll be even more bruised, but now it'll be from the grip of his hands on her hips.

And suddenly V's on the edge of orgasm again, and there's a hand tracing around to her cunt, fingers rubbing over her clit. She comes for a third time, and so does Johnny, holding tight to her and sinking his teeth into her neck again. She's pretty sure she's never come so hard in her whole fucking _life_. 

When they come down, Johnny pulls out and gives V's ass a light smack. "Well that was fuckin' fun." 

V turns around on shaky legs. Johnny's already got a cigarette held between two fingers. He's still naked. Not hard anymore, though. There's fluid running down V's thighs slowly, a mixture of her own wetness and Johnny's come. A shower, that's what she needs. 

"Do this again sometime," she suggests, reaching for the cigarette. 

Oddly, her fingers pass right through it, but her hand meets Johnny's and it's solid. 

"Huh," she says, surprised.

"Gonna have to buy me some real smokes, doll." Johnny shoots her a smirk and takes a drag, exhaling the smoke at her.

V heads for the shower, her second of the evening. "Don't call me that." 

Then he's there, sitting on the sink, dressed again. "You sure liked my nicknames when I was fucking you, though." 

"Fuck off," V snaps as she steps in the shower, but she's smiling. 

**Author's Note:**

> don't forget comments/kudos if you enjoyed!


End file.
